


It's getting dark, darling

by kuriositet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: I have a lot of feelings, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/pseuds/kuriositet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is a man ever truly himself when absent his heart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's getting dark, darling

**Author's Note:**

> In my head this takes place pretty much just after the end of episode 8, or right at the end of it. So this is spoilery.
> 
> Thanks to Bonnie for the quick beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title comes from Thistle and Weeds by Mumford and Sons.

Not a week has passed since the army had torn their forces, and so far things have been quiet. The Romans that have come after the large group headed for the Alps have been small in numbers and easily defeated by the skilled fighters remaining within the group. Their food supplies are still at a promising level. However, no blessings are rich enough to stop worry from seizing Spartacus’s mind.

“Is not the Bringer of Rain also entitled to a moment of relaxation? Or pleasure?” Laeta asks and pours him a cup of wine as he voices his concerns. There has been no word of Crixus’s army, good or bad, and considering how easy it has been since their departure, Spartacus fears they are being lulled into a false sense of security.

“There is not much time for such things with so many lives depending on decisions that I have yet to make,” he replies, yet takes the cup with a smile. “Gratitude.”

“Decisions are not all your own,” Laeta counters as she pours a cup for herself. “Gannicus still stands one of your generals, and Nasir—” A sudden commotion outside their tent gives her pause, and she follows Spartacus in the direction of it to find the man she had just spoken of to be the cause of it. “Nasir is in much need of distraction from wounded heart.”

The scene before them is an almost familiar sight, looking much like that of their night of celebration when the Cilicians had first arrived in Sinuessa. However, this time it is not Agron standing over a beaten and bloodied Castus, but Nasir himself. Spartacus hears Gannicus’s familiar laughter ring through the air and Lugo leads a loud cheer with every new punch Nasir throws. He recognizes Kore and Sibyl’s shocked faces a few paces away from the brawl, and that is enough to make him realize that Nasir is not going to stop on his own accord.

“Nasir!” he shouts, and Nasir’s raised fist is immediately suspended in the air as he turns to meet Spartacus’s eyes. “Take Lugo and relieve Lydon and Rabanus of guard duty.” Nasir gives an annoyed hiss, but lowers his fist and shoves Castus to the ground.

“Come, little man, and place that shit far from your thoughts,” Lugo exclaims, attempting to pull Nasir into an embrace that is not returned.

“Take Saxa instead,” Nasir replies. He steps away and takes his spear from where it has been discarded on the ground. “I would hunt.” Without further words, he stalks off towards the edge of the camp, leaving the group that has gathered wearing faces of concern.

“Kore, Sibyl, see to Castus,” Spartacus commands. Saxa and Lugo are already on their way in the opposite direction of where Nasir went, and Spartacus intends to follow Nasir. “Apologies,” he says to Laeta, giving her the cup of wine still clutched in hand.

He is well aware that what Nasir seeks is solitude rather than game—he has never been one for the hunt, but rather the one organizing and making sure the game is properly taken care of once it is brought back to camp. There has never been a shortage of men or women well capable of it, and so Nasir had never seen it a necessity to take up hunting when he was already of much use elsewhere in the camp.

Nasir has left an easy trail to follow, like men stomping off in anger often do, and Spartacus is upon him within minutes. “If you wish to catch the game unawares, you might want to move more carefully,” Spartacus suggests, causing Nasir to flinch in surprise.

“I suppose I am never going to be much of a hunter,” Nasir spits out bitterly and keeps walking.

“You are not supposed to hunt alone.” Spartacus follows him and they walk in silence for a while, until they reach a clearing with a small stream running through its center. The pale moonlight makes the water gleam beautifully.

Nasir sits on the ground where they stand and, after looking around for obvious threats, Spartacus does the same.

“They could be dead by now,” Nasir says and, though he lets the statement float in the air for a moment, Spartacus doesn’t interrupt. “Naevia, Crixus… Agron.”

“They may yet be alive, marching for Rome,” Spartacus offers, only to learn it was the wrong thing to say.

“For Rome, yes. The opposite direction of where we are headed.”

“Joining Crixus was not a decision he took lightly,” Spartacus says. “I am not the man himself, yet we are of a similar mind.” Nasir scoffs.

“You didn’t send Mira away when you were to face Glaber at Vesuvius. You didn’t join Crixus and his army after asking Laeta to lead in your absence.”

“No, I did not,” Spartacus says, “But I did leave my wife to go into the Roman auxiliary, though she begged me not to.” Nasir turns to look at him in disbelief, and Spartacus feels surprised that of all his men, Nasir has never heard the details of his history with Glaber in Thrace. “I left so that I could keep the women and children in my village and land safe from the Getae for good, and every night I dreamed of when I would return to her arms.”

Nasir shakes his head. “Agron does not mean to return.”

“He means for you to live,” Spartacus insists. “He is willing to sacrifice everything so that you can go on and live in freedom.”

“And what life would that be?” Spartacus does not know. “He said there is no life for him beyond the Alps, with or without me. He was not even willing to try, but sent me off with a wish to try and make the most of remaining days.”

Spartacus looks at him questioningly.

“Castus,” Nasir explains, and Spartacus nods.

“I thought him your friend.”

“Friend and nothing more,” Nasir replies, and then gives a short laugh. “Something both Agron and he have had a hard time grasping.” Spartacus chuckles at that, and then they are left in a lingering silence.

Spartacus is not sure how much time passes, but he is startled by the rustling of leaves and automatically grabs for Nasir’s spear when first one rabbit, and then another, hop out into the clearing. Nasir’s hand on his forearm stills him.

“Let them be. We have plenty of food for now. We can spare two rabbits.” Spartacus follows Nasir’s gaze to the two animals that are huddled together in the moonlight, wondering just what the young man sees.

They get up to leave a short while later, after watching the rabbits drink from the stream before disappearing into the trees once more. The walk back to the camp is done mostly in silence, but Spartacus thinks there are still things left to be said.

“You have many friends here, Nasir. Some even to be called brothers. Do not push them away. They may yet be what makes a life beyond the Alps worthwhile.” 

Nasir stops, just as the first tents become visible among the trees before them. Hesitating, he says, “Lugo would have me go to Germania and his village. I already speak some of his tongue, and the lands East of the Rhine was always the plan, but now I am not sure if it is the right path for me.”

“There is yet time for you to find your path.” He reaches out to touch Nasir’s shoulder, and Nasir offers him a hint of a smile. “Before then, I could truly use some aid in leading this people.”

Nasir almost laughs. “I am not sure you look to the right man if leadership is what you require. I am in no state to lead.”

“You are if you come back to yourself.” 

Nasir looks down and nods, as if to himself, before he starts walking again. He only pauses for a moment to look at Spartacus as he asks, “Is a man ever truly himself when absent his heart?”

“No, he is not.”


End file.
